CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After keeping to myself in my room and hiding in the forests the day before, the next day, my actual birthday, all I'm looking forward to is finding somewhere to hide.
Getting up early proves easier than usual since I spend most of the night tossing and turning, and being torn from my sleep from nightmares that dissolve into nothing the moment I open my eyes.
I plan to scurry downstairs, make breakfast, and disappear into the forests before I see anyone, or any of the pack sees me.
But although the bed is empty, it isn't anything out of the usual since Dayne is, and always has been, an early riser.
I hear sounds from downstairs, and I'm sure I smell breakfast, which again doesn't surprise me since sometimes Regan will get started on it if she's staying at the farmhouse instead of her house in town.
The sound of conversation, though, is unusual and I pause for a second, not sure why so many of the pack are downstairs so early. Normally, they'll pour into the kitchen around six-thirty to eat before the pack members who work in town leave for their jobs.
Maybe Dayne's called an early morning pack meeting about the strange wolf they can't seem to find?
Jenna did mention after their hunt that the wolf is a shifter, and is proving to be elusive.
But I shake it off. I don't even care about my plan to prove myself Luna material by hunting out the wolf on my own. It doesn't matter. Not today.
I rush through my shower, fling some clothes on that I don't look too closely at before hurrying down the stairs.
And then I stop dead in the kitchen doorway.
The entire pack is sitting around the dining table, and the surface is heaving with breakfast. A breakfast I didn't cook.
There are bowls of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, waffles and maple syrup, and it all looks and smells incredible.
But even though my stomach wakes up and starts growling at me to join in, I don't move.
Dayne, who has his back to me, is mid-conversation with Luka. Without pausing, or acknowledging my presence in any other way, he pulls out the empty chair beside him-the one I always sit in.
Since it's clear he knows I'm in the doorway, and with the rest of the pack lifting their faces to share a brief smile of welcome at me, I cross over and sit down.
Savannah has changed seats. From where I'm sitting, I can no longer see her since she's in the corner, while mine and Dayne's chairs are right in the middle.
Thank God.
My plate is already full of all the breakfast options, and after I tuck my chair in under the table, conscious Dayne's hand is still resting on the back of my chair, I pick up my fork.
Regan is going on about the librarian's dog birthing a litter of puppies a few days ago, and some of the pack are trying to convince Jenna it's a bad idea to adopt one of them since dogs, in particular, can be really funny about sharing a space with a wolf, no matter how sweet Jenna's temperament is.
Even if the dog looks at us and sees a human shape, its nose will never stop telling it that what it's looking at is a wolf.
And a predator.
The only one who could is Regan as she has some strange connection with animals. They, for whatever reason, trust her, even though she's a wolf.
She mentioned it in passing one day we were hanging out by the lake, but as soon as I asked to know more, she outright refused to talk about it.
Between the beautiful Savannah living in a cabin in the woods, and Regan's ability to be around animals without them having a panic attack, I get the impression there are more secrets in the Blackshaw pack waiting for me to uncover.
That's not the only conversation going on around the table as the sound of knives and forks hitting plates, of laughter, and joking, and Dayne and Luka still going on about accounts, surrounds me.
It's all so perfectly normal.
And in this warm space, filled with light and laughter and good food, it's the sheer normality of it that hits me the hardest.
This is what I've always wanted.
Deep down, this is what my soul always craved, and I never knew it until this moment. This is my need and my want. The thing Uncle has ensured I never had.
To be a part of a pack, to be… family.
I manage a couple of bites before I have to put my fork down because my throat closes up and my appetite disappears.
Keeping my head down, and using my hair as a shield, I shove my chair back and rise.
But Dayne's hand comes down on the back of my neck and stops me.
He doesn't say a word. Just uses the weight of his hand to hold me in my chair.
Head bowed, I squeeze my eyes shut to try and stop my tears from falling as my body shakes with the need to let it out.
I don't know how long I sit there, as finally, a determined tear squeezes out between my eyelids and slides down the tip of my nose.
I just manage to brush it away before it lands on my plate, and then swallowing, sniffing, concentrating on breathing, the urge-the need to cry lessens.
And that's when I notice it. The silence around me.
It's the hardest thing in the world to lift my head. Not because Dayne is still holding my head down. He's not, now he's just resting his hand there.
It's hard because it can't have escaped the packs' attention that I was fighting not to cry, and I've made things awkward-again.
They are studiously looking the other way, or down at their plates, and I get the sense they looked away the second I glanced up.
None of them laugh or stare, or view me breaking down as a source of entertainment the way my old pack would have. Instead, it's like they're pretending it didn't happen, and that's the best thing I could've hoped for.
"Luka, how are the trees going?" Dayne asks the beta, and it's only then that I realized even he was silent.
"There's more than I expected, but…"
Slowly the pack resumes their conversations, and I pick up my fork.
Regan peeks over at me and offers me a quick smile as if she's asking if I'm okay.
I smile back at her. "Can you pass me the maple syrup?"
"Hot, or cold?"
"What?"
"Some of us like warmed up maple syrup, and some cold. So we like to have both," Jenna says.
"I don't care," Marshall says, his arm slung over the back of Jenna's chair. "As long as it's Canadian."
"But can we even call it maple syrup that if it's not from Canada?" Hallee, a pack member I don't know all that well asks.
"Sure. It's not like champagne," Dean says, his gaze on his cell phone.
Since he's a freelance software designer, every time I've seen him, he's always got his phone in his hand.
"And what the hell does champagne have to do with maple syrup?"
Soon, there's a full-blown argument about maple syrup and champagne and French soil that overtakes all other discussions at the table.
Regan slips me the small jug of hot maple syrup, which becomes my new favorite thing in the world. I can't believe I never heard about this before. I've grown up with the out-of-a-bottle, faux syrup. But this stuff, the real deal, is a revelation.
And even better, as I dig into my slightly cold pancakes, but being nicely warmed up by the syrup, Dayne continues his quiet conversation about tree-felling with Luka.
The hand he's left on the back of my neck shifts, and then he's giving me a slow but thorough neck massage that soon has the rest of my tension melting away.
No matter how enjoyable breakfast with the pack is, one breakfast was never going to be enough to chase away all the ghosts that have haunted me since my parents went for a run on my eighth birthday, and never came back.
So, when the pack members who've finished eating gather up their plates and start clearing away the leftovers after they ask me if I'm done, I take advantage of the commotion, and of Dayne who's retreated to his office, and slip back upstairs.
I've only just burrowed beneath the covers before Dayne is there, ripping them off me despite all my desperate efforts to cling onto them.
"Get dressed, we're going out in twenty minutes."
I'm not in the mood for his orders. Yeah, the breakfast with the pack was nice. More than nice, in fact. But today I just want-need to be alone.
"Look, I know you want me to do things, but just not today. Tomorrow, I'll do whatever you want. I'll cook all day, and clean and do gardening or whatever. Anything. Today please can I just be alone. Please."
Barely glancing at me, Dayne turns to leave.
"You have fifteen minutes."
It hasn't been five minutes since he told me I had twenty minutes. Not even close.
"Dayne, please-" But my words are wasted on him as he jerks open the bedroom door and slips out, shutting it firmly behind him.
"Ten minutes. And wear shoes."
I stare at the door, then screeching in frustration I snatch up a pillow and hurl it across the room before collapsing back into bed.
I stay like that for a minute, maybe a little more, but then I get up because I know Dayne, and if he comes back and finds me still in bed, I have no trouble picturing him dragging me from it.
Because this wasn't him asking me to get ready. This was him telling me.
Dayne waits for me outside the farmhouse.
He's standing at the bottom of the porch steps, staring out into the forests in jeans, a long-sleeve tee, and his boots.
When I stomp down the porch stairs in a pair of black combat-style boots, blue jeans, and a gray fluffy sweater I've pulled over my t-shirt since it's still early and a little chilly, I make no attempt at hiding how pissed off I am.
Without turning away from the sight of early morning sunlight sweeping over the trees, Dayne thrusts his hand in my direction.
I give it a withering stare. "You want to hold hands," I say, disbelieving.
Hearing a choked sound, I glance up into his face but his profile suggests not even a hint of emotion.
Still, something about him, about his intense focus on the trees, and the sound I heard him made, has me frowning.
Why am I getting the impression that once again I just missed something?
"I don't want to be stopping to pick you up every five minutes. Give me your hand."
"I tripped. Once," I snap.
And that was only because at the time I was being blinded by his shirt as I left my former pack. But I don't complain, I do as I'm told, I grab his hand. As always, it's hot, and he closes his hand firmly around mine,
Under no circumstance will I ever admit how good it feels.
Instead, I curl my lip and make my hand limp in his to give the impression it's absolutely the last thing I want.
Feeling like I'm being observed, and from the direction of the den windows, I turn back in time to catch the curtains twitching.
Poised to ask Dayne if he feels like he's being watched, instead, I nearly fall when he suddenly yanks at my hand.
"Come on. We don't have all day."
For the first few minutes… no, if I'm being honest, it's closer to an hour, as Dayne leads the way into the forest and up the mountain, I grumble under my breath and stomp all the way.
But then, it's hard to know when I find myself relaxing and enjoying the walk. The woods are beautiful, and I've always loved to be surrounded by nature. It eases my soul in a way nothing else does.
At some points, when we hit an incline, I catch glimpses of the mountains in the distance. Not the Rockies, I don't think, but that doesn't make it any less gorgeous.
The air is crisp, the sound of wildlife, of rabbits and other creatures moving under the brush ensures it's not peaceful, but it fills me with tranquility all the same.
We walk for nearly two hours, following the path the lake takes up into the mountain, and we're serenaded by the happy chirping of birds in the trees above us, and the soft rustling of squirrels and rabbits waking up.
After his initial forceful tug back at the farmhouse, Dayne slowed down, and although he has much longer legs than I do, it's easy enough for me to keep up.
And though our pace has been more leisurely than a strenuous hike, soon I'm getting thirsty. But without me having to say a word, Dayne is stopping at the lake and dropping my hand before striding away.
Since we didn't bring a water bottle with us, with the lake looking so inviting, I go to my knees, and use my cupped hands to drink a few mouthfuls.
Cold, crisp, and delicious water slides down my throat and it's so perfect I close my eyes to savor it. Better than any bottled water ever.
"Come here."
Lifting my head, I turn to find Dayne sitting with his back against a tree, staring off into the distance.
Squinting, I try to make out what he's looking at, but I can't from where I'm kneeling. "Why?"
"I said, come here," he growls.
"God, are all alphas like you? All come here, go there, do this, it's a wonder any woman would ever choose to mate with an alpha in the first place," I grumble as I stomp my way over to him.
He makes no response, though I'm convinced I catch his lip twitching. But that can't be right. Dayne Blackshaw, smiling at me?
No way. I'm definitely seeing things.
Once I drop down beside him, I stretch my legs out in front of me as he's doing. Except, when I go to lean my back against the tree, he shifts me and tucks me close beside him, his arm curving around me.
I get ready to snap at him again for manhandling me, but when I feel his fingers playing with the ends of my hair, I forget what I was about to say.
The way he does it makes my scalp tingle with awareness at the gentle pressure he's exerting as he tugs and winds my hair around his finger.
It's… nice, more than nice. Glorious.
Before I know it, I'm leaning my head into his neck, burrowing into him as my arm creeps up his back and the other slides around his front.
I'm taking a second to consider what's going on here. Something impossible. Me and Dayne Blackshaw, the cold-blooded alpha, snuggling.
And that's when I see it.
What he was looking at in the distance, between the trees.
The reason he ordered me over like some kind of Neanderthal man. Right in between two towering trees is a glimpse of the Rockies.
It's cloudy enough that the snowy peaks of the mountains look hazy like I'm in a weird half-dream state, but what I see stuns me.
It's so incredible, I can't stop grinning inanely at it even when I feel Dayne shifting to look down at me.
"Oh," I whisper, unable to find the words to communicate how much I'm in love with what I'm seeing.
But he doesn't call me stupid or laugh when my eyes fill with tears, even though I wouldn't blame him for it, because who cries at the sight of mountains?
No, he just holds me closer as I blink my tears away, unable to turn from the sight of something I never thought I'd ever see again.
As magical the sight of the mountains are, it isn't long before I'm struggling to keep my eyes open.
A severe lack of sleep, disturbing nightmares, and the way Dayne is playing with my hair soon has me burrowing deeper into his warm body as time goes by.
It can't have been over three hours since I've been awake, and so far, it's already been the best birthday I've ever had.
Without meaning to, maybe it's tiredness, maybe I'm just that grateful, I end up blurting out more than I intend.
"This has been the best birthday ever, Dayne, thank you," I murmur, already more asleep than awake.
He doesn't respond. If he does, it's after I've fallen asleep.
And if I feel the brush of something against my forehead as I sink into oblivion, I tell myself it couldn't possibly be Dayne kissing me.
Because this is a dream and I'm asleep.
None of this: breakfast with the pack, Dayne taking me on a walk to show me something I've been desperate to see practically all my life, and him holding me like this can be real.
Things that good never happen to me.